Cameron: Tax is for the little people

As the political storm surrounding the Cameron family’s tax affairs intensifies, the Prime Minister has once again attempted to justify his dubious offshore tax arrangements.

Visibly angry at being asked difficult questions by people who don’t know their place, Mr Cameron snarled: “Tax is for the little people, and those earning less than £100,000 a year. At six foot two and being from a wealthy family, I shouldn’t have to bother with things like honesty or actually paying my taxes.”

“I don’t know why you journalists are going round setting fire to each other over a trivial matter like my tax dodging, when I’ve done things that are far more illegal and damaging to the national interest.”

Taking to Twitter in defence of the Prime Minister, Laura Kuenssberg wrote: “PM doing nothing illegal, rich tax dodgers help poor via trickle down effect”.

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2 thoughts on “Cameron: Tax is for the little people”

  1. Well it’s the Tories mainly, and I tell you all quite plainly,
    Slimy dogs return to eat some more.
    They will Panama discuss, part confess, create a fuss,
    Then return to verbal vomit, and what for?
    Now the people understood, people happen to be good,
    They will pay their taxes, come what may or June.
    But the rich don’t Give a toss when they sit upon high Oss’
    So we’ll get rid of Tories and we’ll make it soon!
    (John Denver miss quote and parody)!

    1. Wash Day
      My Papa invented a wonderful game
      Of magic where cash disappeared
      Said go to your room Son get me that Pig
      The one with the slot in its rear,
      Being obedient , and not to offend,
      I straight ways fetched down little George,
      He poked in a knife,
      And I swear on my life
      My George, he began to disgorge
      My life saving’s had gone,
      So I shouted so-long,
      As my Pa ran away out the door,
      Well later in life I found me a wife,
      Who I found had A Piggy Galore
      Of this tale of woe, you may like to repair.
      Or at least never let it be seen
      For the funeral crowd
      There’s no pockets in shrouds
      So hide your cash offshore, and clean
      Don’t let show your laundry on wash day
      For laundering cash looks obscene
      Don’t let them all go
      To the Laundrette you know
      It’s a specialist, Privileged scene
      Well then;
      what can we say now of Panama,
      That Mama, hasn’t already said,
      We don’t wish to speak about Panama,
      And we never speak ill of the dead,
      So peaceful, on a mantel piece sits Pa’, in his Jar,
      For when alive t’was a topic he’d dread
      On finding a friend, who’s company’s end
      Was to pay all its taxes Instead.

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